American Storm
by Queen Cherry Fairy
Summary: America gets bored and decides to make a prank call to England, causing a massive ripple effect which brings many of the nations' feelings out into the open. Several pairings, but focuses on a Canada/America/England love triangle.
1. Impending Storm

The scent of the air mixed with the ways the trees danced in the rearing wind hinted at a coming storm. Alfred F. Jones, hero extraordinaire (to him, at least,) was sitting in his kitchen drinking coffee. He gazed without interest outside his window and blandly noted the weather. Then, angrily, he slammed the cup down onto his table, making the hot beverage gush over the top like a miniature brown geyser.

This wasn't fair! He was a hero! A hero! He had battles to fight and countries to save, so why was he sitting here **bored?!** It was his country's custom to take it easy on Sunday, but telling Alfred to "take it easy" was like telling a fish to take a break from swimming. What could he do? What could he do?

Suddenly, a mischievous smile emerged on the young country's face. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He knew _exactly_ what would cheer him up!

...…………………………………………..

It was raining at Arthur Kirkland's house, as per usual. Today, however, it looked as if it would be especially bad. Steam rose up from his tea and encircled his face before trailing off behind him, chasing the path he left as he paced up and down his living room. His moment of peace was ruined by the ringing of his phone.

"Hello?" he said politely, taking a seat and gently beginning to blow on the tea's surface.

"Hi!" was the energetic response. Arthur's tea was soon splurted out of the cup. Apparently, being a hot beverage is a risky lifestyle in this fanfiction.

"America…" he uttered sourly.

"England…" America uttered back, mimicking the older nation.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked after heaving a heavy sigh. This had better be good! Ever since he decided to declare independence from him, England had been getting nothing but trouble from that American git.

"I just thought you should know," said the chipper voice on the other end of the call, "I'm in love with you!"

………………………………….……...…….

Matthew Williams brought his hood in tighter around his head and hugged his beloved polar bear cub, whose name currently slipped his mind, to his chest as the rain poured down upon them. The bear stirred inside of his hoody, a bit irritated to be stuck in such a place.

"It's alright, Komajirou," Canada said, smiling pleasantly, "We just have a little further to go before we reach America's house."

"But I'm a polar bear," _Kumajirou_ pointed out, "I'm at least twice as waterproof as you, whoever you are."

"…How is it you can talk again?"

"………."

"Well, anyway," Matthew continued as they came nearer and nearer to the sanctuary of a warm, dry house, "This rain came really suddenly, didn't it? I've been in this part of America lots of times, but the weather's never been like this! I wonder what happened."

Finally, the shy Canadian's efforts were paid off as he made it to the front door of his brother, Alfred's house. The door was worn out and flimsy, probably due to how often Alfred slammed it with his insane strength. He knocked, only to have the door heave a long, drawn out groan as it fell off of its hinges and on to the floor, ending with a loud crash.

"Um, America?" Canada ventured in his usual timid whisper, "I'm coming in."

Matthew had no doubt in his mind that America hadn't heard him, but he stepped in anyway, rewarding Kumajirou's (partial) patience by liberating him from inside the hoody and allowing him satisfying gulps of fresh air.

"Hi!" came Alfred's voice. Matthew looked up from his tiny bear, but didn't see Alfred anywhere. He walked further into the house, certain that his southern neighbor had been speaking to him.

"H-hello?" he softly mustered.

"England…"

Matthew sighed.

"No. I'm Canada, remember?" he said, trying to raise his voice but, as he was well aware, not succeeding, "Can-a-da. With a C."

By this point, he had made it to the messy, ill-kept hallway leading to America's messy, ill-kept kitchen. All Matthew could see of the messy, ill-kept owner of this messy, ill-kept house was the single strand of messy, ill-kept blonde hair that always stuck out from his messy, ill-kept head.

"I just thought you should know," said the chipper voice from the other room, "I'm in love with you!"

Canada froze. His eyes widened. His face felt hot as it burst into a crimson blush. His heart-beat sped out of control. He was brought back when he almost dropped Kumajirou. As soon as his rationality was restored, Canada turned and fled the house as swiftly as possible- all the time trying to comprehend what he had just been told.

Alfred was in love with him?

……………………………………………………………………………

Canada's face was, needless to say, not the only one turning red at that particular moment. Arthur also had a hard time grasping what he had just heard.

"You _what_?!" he exclaimed, unfortunately sounding much stupider than he cared to sound and dropping his hot beverage onto his tidy, well-kept carpet.

"We just can't get a break around here!" it shouted up from below, but its former consumer was far too preoccupied to notice.

"I said, 'I'm in love with you'!" was the ever enthusiastic response.

A strange feeling washed over the young British gentleman. Well, to be honest, the strangeness was not in the feeling itself. England was far too old of a nation to have never experienced love before, but to feel such a thing for-

That was when he heard insane giggling on the other end.

"Just kidding!!"

And with that, his former colonies hung up the phone, no doubt doubled over in laughter. Arthur was left standing alone in his living room with nothing but the sound of the rain…slamming ever faithfully against his house's roof and windows.

……………………………………………………………..

Alfred was doubled over in laughter.

"Oh, man!" he exclaimed, "I was right! That was _gold_! I'm gonna hafta tell Canada about this!"

He paused, his smile fading.

"But he really didn't sound very angry on the phone. In fact, he…"

He shook his blonde head, restoring his trademark grin.

"Bah! What am I thinking?! He's probably pissed off beyond measure right now! No surprise there!!"

Little did he know, America had just set in motion the beginnings of a long, hard-to-weather storm.


	2. Canada's Storm 1

What the fuzzy nimrod? _That_ many people liked this silly little story?! It may not seem like a lot to more seasoned online writers, but this really seems like a lot to me! T_T I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint!

Also, in honor of most of the people who added my story to their favorites being Canadian, I've kicked this thing off with the romantic misadventures of our northern neighbor. Enjoy the storm!

And on one last note…O. M. G. The other night, I had a dream that England had found all of the yaoi stuff involving him that I saved on my computer. XD He was so pissed!! But, America was just standing there, smiling! XD XD Then, England asked me, "How would _you_ feel if I started putting you into pairings with people _you_ knew?!" I told him that I wasn't sure who he would pair me with. Sadly, the dream shifted to something else, so I don't know who Iggy would pair me with. D=

………………………………………..

The night sky that greeted Matthew when he descended from his plane was starless, with only the fragile-looking moon dangling off in the distance. It looked so crisp and so pure, and yet it didn't give light to anything. It was merely out there in the distance.

"Oh! Excuse me!" he heard a woman exclaim as she bumped into him from behind, snapping him out of his reverie.

"No, excuse _me_, ma'am," he said politely, smiling sweetly and stepping to the side. He usually liked coming home. Here, people actually noticed him and paid attention to him. In fact, he was very well-loved.

Loved…

Alfred's words still haunted him. How could this have happened? They were brothers! Surely it was wrong to- Well, actually they weren't brothers. They were both adopted by England, so they weren't related by blood. But they still grew up- Well, actually they had grown up quite distant to one another. They shared an unprotected border and traded freely, but the two nations generally had nothing to do with each other. But Alfred was so loud and- Well, actually Canada had always secretly admired how extroverted America was. Wait, what was he thinking?! He did _not_ admire _**anybody**_!

In case you were wondering, dear readers, Canada was in motion the entire time he was having this conversation with himself. He continued being in motion and having several more irritated conversations with himself until he stopped being in motion in front of the door to his house…although a conversation continued to be had.

As he brought his key to the door, he began to get the strangest feeling that something was afoot. He paused, retracted the key a little, decided to ignore it, and proceeded to unlock the door. It wasn't until he had entered the house and put his keys back in his pocket that he realized that the lights were all on.

"That's odd," he said aloud to Kumajirou, "I thought I had shut everything off when I left."

"Canada!" said a deep, silky voice from inside.

Matthew froze. Oh. Crap.

Up walked France, with a glass of wine in hand.

"Welcome home, Matthieu!" he said cheerfully, "Won't you have a drink with me?"

"France! Oh…b-but, I'm only 18…" Matthew stammered, afraid of what might come of drinking with Francis.

"That's old enough to drink in Quebec," the Frenchman replied matter-of-factly.

"But, we aren't in Quebec!"

"Well, here's France," he replied, pointing to himself with a wink and a mischievous smile before pointing to Matthew, "And there's Canada! So, we must be in Quebec!"

Matthew sighed in defeat and placed Kumajirou in a safe spot on the floor. The little bear then teetered over to a food bowl full of dead fish, his little claws clack-clacking on the polished wooden floor. France uncorked a new bottle and poured a glass for Canada, who was both worried and relieved. He was worried that France had already drunk an entire bottle, and yet he was relieved to see that _his_ drink had not been tampered with.

Canada had been exposed to some of France's flirtations before, but none of the full-blown perversion that all of the older nations had warned him about. Whenever he saw Francis, he was always frightened that "today would be the day".

"A votre santé!" France declared cheerfully, raising his glass.

"A-A votre santé…" Canada sheepishly replied. He took one unsure sip, felt the unpleasant burn it left inside his mouth, and spat it back out, coughing. France just threw his blonde head back and laughed.

"S-so what're you doing here?" Canada asked, wiping the remains of the alcohol from his mouth with the back of his hand, "And…um…how were you able to recognize me this time?" He asked because he was usually mistaken for his older brother, even by his previous father figures.

"Recognize you?" he said, seemingly dumbstruck by what he was asked, "Of _course_ I recognize you! When have I not recognized you?"

"Erm…there was that one time in the early 1900s."

"There was?"

"And you never even knew I was involved in the war."

"You were involved in a war?"

"And…uh…in just this last world conference, you mistook me for Alfred when I offered you maple syrup."

"Wait…that wasn't les Etats-Unis who offered that to me?"

"N-no!"

France was quiet for a while, pensive. Suddenly, his trademark "perv" smile came to his face.

_Oh, here we go,_ Canada thought to himself.

"Well, then," he said, leaning over to stroke Canada's cheek, "C'est évident! I need to pay more attention to you... preferably in bed." He winked when he added that last part.

Canada let out a shocked gasp as the still full glass slipped from his hand, breaking on the floor and joining the amount Canada had already spat out. (Apparently, cold beverages aren't safe in this fanfiction either.) However, Matthew didn't notice. His attention was still upon the mischievously sparkling blue eyes confronting him.

"I- I couldn't!"

"Oh, sure you could," Francis cooed.

"But, you're so much older than me!"

"Oh, cher garçon," he replied, bringing him in _far_ too close for comfort, "Age doesn't matter when it comes to passion."

"Ame-"Canada started to stay in panic.

"Aimer! Oui!" France smiled, apparently taking this as a token of consent, and hastily planted a kiss on poor little Matthew Williams. Seemingly all of the blood in Matthew's body rushed to his face before he pried the Frenchman off of him.

"No!" he exclaimed, backing away as far and as quickly as possible, "I'm only going to do that with someone I truly love!"

He let out another gasp, covering his mouth with his hands. Did he just…did he just give him _ammunition_? He looked up. Judging by France's wily expression, that was a yes. Definitely.

"Very well…" he said. Matthew saw his next words coming a mile away.

"Then, I'll _make_ you truly love me!"

With that, Francis took the empty and partially full wine bottles and ran out of the house, laughing all the way. Matthew was left on his own with only the ticking of a clock to break the stunned, awkward silence.

Canada heaved a sigh. Why was this happening? Throughout his entire life, there had been only a handful of other countries who ever noticed him, and now he was getting all of the _wrong_ attention all at once!

"Well, I'd better clean up the mess I made, in any case," he said aloud, "Eh, Kumajerro? Kumajerro?"

_Kumajirou_, however, had used the two humans' distraction to lap up the wine his caretaker had dropped on the ground, and was now drunk and wobbling all over the room.

………………………………………………………………

To be continued! (And since I know you're wondering, spazzkitty, the next chapter _will_ focus on England.)


	3. England's Storm 1

I'm starting to think I watch too much Hetalia. You wanna know why? The other night, I had two _more_ dreams about it! In the first one, I was roommates with England and another country. I don't remember who the other roommate was, but I have a strong feeling she was female, so that limits the possibilities. England was all "Why are you so messy?!" and I was just ignoring him. In the second dream, I was trying to play a Hetalia dating sim game (not Gakuen Hetalia) and I was trying to do something with America (not like that, pervs), but then the computer kept fudging up so I couldn't! D=

Anywho…Someone from the UK has finally favorited this story! (Yes!!) And someone from _**Peru**_subscribed to it! Peru!!!! (Aren't you guys jealous? I bet you're jealous. :P) This chapter is from Arthur's perspective. Enjoy the storm!

And on one last note: DeepBlueInk, why are you so nice to me? Not only are you the first person to add me to your favorite authors list, but you subscribed to Hetalia New World! _Nobody_ reads Hetalia New World!! Thanks are in order, but I'm too dumbstruck to know what to say.

Missouri: Why are you acting so star-struck? It's only a few nerds on some fanfiction site. -_-

Hey! You haven't even appeared yet in your _own_ fanfiction, Missouri! Besides, I'd be happy if only one person found some sort of joy in reading any of my work. 0//w//0

Missouri: -_-….Whatever. I'm going to go have another border dispute with Kansas now.

………………………………………….

England stood outside of the concert hall, complying but still a bit befuddled. For some reason, Prussia, the supposedly-vanished country with which he had seldom interacted, had asked him to accompany him to Austria's concert. Arthur sighed. It was obvious that Gilbert was up to some sort of mischief, but what of this could possibly involve him? And why had he agreed to this in the first place?

He dropped his eyes to the ground and kicked a tiny pebble at his feet. That was right. He wanted to avoid that which still pounded against his skull, demanding his attention. He banished whatever it was. He forbade himself from even having a notion of what it was, because he knew that whatever this feeling was….it would tear him apart. All he allowed himself to know was that it involved Alfred.

He absentmindedly tilted his head upwards, changing his view from the ground to the sky. It no longer rained, but the sky was still gray and groggy. It looked as if it could swallow up the whole earth and everyone in it if prompted to do so.

"Hey!! England!!"

Arthur looked down to see a smiling red-eyed boy running towards him at full speed. He somehow managed to come to a complete stop in front of him without knocking over any innocent bystanders.

"Prussia…what are you wearing?"

"Hm?" Gilbert looked down at his military uniform, "What I _always_ wear! The outfit of awesome!"

"But, this is a _show_," England said, bewildered. He himself was wearing a formal suit and tie, as was practically every man who was entering the concert hall. Many people were staring at Prussia and whispering. No doubt, Gilbert thought that they were all praising him.

"Szar…" a female voice behind them said, "Not _you_…"

Whoever it was behind England that said this, her presence caused Prussia to break into a wide, maniacal grin. He turned to see Hungary, frozen and a pale with an expression of dread.

"Der Teufel!" Gilbert replied as sweetly as if he had just called her some pet name rather than "the devil", "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I told you to stay _away_ from me!"

"What? Who said I was here to see you?" He pointed to Arthur, "England here asked me to come with him to the concert, so I did."

This was a blatant lie, of course, and Hungary knew so from England's befuddled expression.

"_Right_…" Elizaveta said, turning from horror-stricken to angry and suspicious, "And you're not here to, oh, say, jeopardize Mr. Austria's performance are you?"

"Please!" he snorted, "I'm far too awesome to try something as low as that. When I want to attack someone, I seize their vital regions out in the open!"

Hungary rolled her eyes.

"Regardless," she said in exasperation as Gilbert quietly walked up behind her, "I'm going in, so if you-"

Her sentence was cut off by Prussia suddenly wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leaning in to place his mouth next to her ear.

"But," he said in such a low and seductive tone that no one except Elizaveta, not even the now extremely confused Englishman, could hear him, "It's _your_ vital regions that I'd like to seize most of all."

Her face turned scarlet and something flickered in her eyes. Arthur wondered if the two were somehow a couple. That is, he did until Hungary suddenly pulled a frying pan out of nowhere and knocked Prussia over the head with it. Gilbert sat on the ground, cradling his head in pain as the indignant Hungarian girl stormed away.

_What an idiot,_ Arthur thought, _So arrogant, so self-centered, so like…_

He shook his head, not wanting to finish that statement. If he did, the gray sky would swallow him up.

Throughout the performance, England noticed that Prussia kept looking up at the balcony that had been reserved for Hungary. At first, he only stole quick glances. Then, as the night wore on, he began spending entire songs just staring forlornly at the brown-haired nation. England never thought he would ever see Prussia look forlorn, much less over a girl. Wasn't this the guy who always boasted about never marrying?

After the show, the guy who always boasted about never marrying saw the object of his affection go backstage and told the unwilling audience of their little romantic drama that they were going to do the same. When asked by a stage worker if they had authority to be there, Gilbert simply knocked him unconscious and continued on his way. Arthur simply prayed that they wouldn't be arrested.

"You were wonderful, Mr. Austria!" Hungary said in pure delight.

"Thank you, Miss Hungary," Austria replied politely, "Knowing you were there encouraged me to do my best."

"Is that so?"

The two countries slowly turned their heads in gloomy anticipation to see Gilbert, standing triumphantly with his significantly less triumphant-looking tag-along.

"Prussia," Hungary said in a fierce whisper, "What are you _doing_ here?!"

"What are _you_ doing here?" he volleyed back.

"Isn't it obvious?" she retorted, "I'm here to congratulate Mr. Austria!"

"Is that all?" he said, smirking, "Or is this your way of rejecting me?

"What?!" Hungary's face reverted back to scarlet again, "G-get real! Not everything is about _you_, Gilbert!"

"Ah-ha!" he raced over to her and enthusiastically placed his index finger on the tip of her nose, "You called me by my human name!"

"Wh-b-no! You idiot!!"

However, none of her poorly-constructed protests could tear the victorious smile from his face. Once Hungary realized that, she did the only thing she could think to do: She hit him with her ever-faithful frying pan, turned, and ran off, yelling Hungarian insults back at her offender over her shoulder.

"Oh, dear, look what you've done now," Austria said, heaving a sigh and rising slowly from his seat, "Now I'll have to do damage control." With that, he also began to make his exit.

"In any case," he said, stopping half-way to the door, "Thank you for coming to the show. And United Kingdom, I apologize for all of this."

_Odd,_ Arthur thought as Austria continued to make his exit, _Not many people call me United Kingdom._

"Why did you do that?" Arthur asked the trouble-making country after an awkward silence, "Surely you realize how much Hungary despises you!"

"Yeah," Prussia said, blinking, "So?"

"So! Why are you pursuing someone who hates you?!"

"…………are you serious?"

"When have I _not_ been serious?"

"………..good point."

Prussia sat down in a nearby chair, his posture relaxed and his smile patronizing.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said, "I'm awesome! So awesome that she'll recognize my awesomeness someday, too! And when she does, I'll be ready!"

England smacked his forehead with his hand.

"That doesn't answer my question," he said flatly.

"It doesn't?"

"How do you…" he clenched his fists and his body began shaking, "How do you have feelings for… How do you love someone who you know will never love you?! It's just a waste of time! Can't you just…" He turned away, not wanting a country like Prussia to see tears forming in his eyes. "Can't you just _**forget**_ about her?"

There was another long, awkward silence.

"Nope!" Gilbert finally said happily.

"Ugh." England leaned his head against a wall in defeat. "You're no help."

"Help?" he said, confused, "I was just stating the facts. If I deem someone worthy of my awesomeness, then they _must_ be worth everything I go through to get them!"

England sighed, preparing to tell Prussia that he was leaving, as well.

"It's the same with you," he suddenly said. Arthur froze.

"What?"

"It's the same way with you," he repeated, "I don't know who you're acting like a teenage girl from an after-school special for, but whoever they are, they must be worth any trouble you go through to get them!"

Was this really _Prussia_ that was saying this?! How could he say such things? He knew nothing about-

All at once, everything that Arthur had pushed out of his mind came flooding back to him. The days when Alfred was close to him. The day that Alfred threw Arthur away. The times when Arthur felt as if Alfred might be coming back to him. The times when Arthur stopped seeing Alfred as a bratty little brother, but as a man. The phone call. Alfred. Alfred. _Alfred! _

"I-I have to go!" he said suddenly, practically sprinting to his car and driving to the nearest exit.

"Yes, I imagine you do," Gilbert cackled as he watched Arthur leave. This was great. Seeing a stuck-up nation like England heart-broken and rejected would be _hilarious_!

……………………………………………………………

And that's the end of that one! (Yes, I like Prussia and Hungary together! I don't care if it isn't canon! DX) I know that a lot of fanfics have Hungary call Austria "Austria-san," but I felt a bit strange having Hungary use Japanese honorifics. I wanted to find out the Hungarian equivalent of "Mr." but I couldn't find it. ): So, I used "Mr." If someone could tell me what the equivalent is, it would be greatly appreciated! (Oh. And don't use that Hungarian word that Elizaveta used when she first saw Gilbert outside the concert hall. It ain't pretty.)


	4. England's Storm 2

Sorry this one took so long to come out! School was stealing away my yaoi muse. (I, unfortunately, live in an area where homosexuality isn't generally accepted.)

Well! As soon as I say that no one reads Hetalia New World, people suddenly start to read it! Thank you to those who compliment that work, as well as this one. You guys are the….uh...cream in my coffee!!! :D….uh….the sugar in my bowl!!!! :D….uh….you're something. O_o How about this? This is what my Taekwondo coach always said to us students: "Of all the people I know, you're some of them!"

Enjoy the storm! ;)

……………………………………………………………

England sat behind the wheel of the rented car, fighting two inward battles. One: trying to figure out how to drive on the wrong side of the car…on the wrong side of the road. Two: Debating between confessing his long-suppressed feelings to America or getting out of the smelly, rented vehicle and taking the first plane back home. Heaving an irritated sigh, he stuck his keys into the ignition and started the car.

………………………………………………………….

America was also driving to his house. Despite having lived with the same traffic rules his entire life, he drove like a reckless teenager. He cut off other cars. He drove up on the curb. He even hit a mailbox or two! He smiled exuberantly as he climbed out of his surprisingly intact car and stretched his arms lazily towards the sky, paying no heed to the insults thrown at him by his nearby victims.

"What a great sky!" he commented, gazing up at the robin's-egg blue, "This week's weather has been great."

Of course, it _hadn't_ been great. The young nation was simply too happy about the current sunshine to remember the storms that he had seen just a few days ago. When he brought his line of vision back to the ground, he blinked in surprise at the car which was crookedly parked in his driveway. He had a visitor?

Inside the house, a burnt, yet strangely pleasant and familiar aroma wafted through the house. He froze at the empty doorframe. (He _had_ to replace that thing at some point. How did it fall down in the first place?) He automatically knew what was making that smell.

"England!" He ran at full-speed into the kitchen. There he was. The blonde Englishman was bent down, removing a tray of scones from the oven.

………………………………………………………………

"America!" England flinched as the very man he had been thinking about for the last twenty-four hours appeared before him. In some corner of his mind that was not preoccupied by the other nation's presence, Arthur noticed that the tray was slipping from his hands.

"Ah! Look out!!" Alfred yelled as he lunged for the tray.

"Idiot! Don't touch-"

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"…that."

It should be fairly obvious, dear readers, that Alfred had indeed "touched that". Yet, there he continued to crouch awkwardly, a piping hot tray still held in his bare hands. The scones that America had made such a "heroic" attempt to rescue were spilled haphazardly around him. They shall be missed.

"STUPID GIT! PUT THAT DOWN!!!"

"R-Right…" but rather than automatically dropping the damn thing like any sane person would, America decided to gather up the poor befallen scones, place them in a messy pile on top of the tray, and set them on one of the rare clear places on his counter. Arthur was not amused.

"STUPID! IDIOT!! GIT!!! MORON!!! YOU BLOODY-" England sputtered, flailing his arms around in the air in frustration.

"I get the point," America said weakly, "I get – owwwww…."

"I can't believe I raised a brother as stupid as you!"

All the while, England's mind was racing. Was America okay? How badly was he hurt? Did they need to go to a hospital? _Would __**he**__ have to drive?!_ _**Oh, god!!**_

"Stupid, huh?" America said, forcing a playful smile as he walked to the kitchen sink, "I'd have to be stupid to want to save _your_ horrible scones."

"Why, you-" He stopped when he saw the pained look on Alfred's face as he turned the faucet handle.

"Alfred… are you going to be alright?"

"Oh, please!" America replied, turning his head to look at the older country as he let the water spill over his palms, "As if that would be enough to- gah!!"

"Alfred!"

Arthur instinctively stepped forward, reaching out his right hand.

"Arthur!" America said back with a high-pitched, stereotypical British accent and another playful grin as he turned the water off.

The agitation that overtook England was matched only by the thrill of hearing Alfred say his real name. Why was he so thrilled by that? Maybe America's stupidity was contagious.

"Wait here!" England called over her shoulder as he dashed towards the door, "I'll be right back!"

Yes. It must've been contagious.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Panting from the speed with which he carried out his excursion, England stomped back into the house and practically threw his bag of purchases at the surprisingly patient nation.

He removed the bag's contents. It was a jar of ointment for burns.

"Thanks, but no thanks," he said, dropping it carelessly on the floor, "I'll be perfectly fine. I'm America, after all!"

"That doesn't mean anything!" Arthur snapped, his last nerve thoroughly gotten on, "Now, shut up and don't let that money I wasted on you go to waste!" He knew that this made no sense, but he didn't care.

America looked at him in silence, as if he was trying to analyze him.

"Alright," he finally said, "But, only if you put it on for me."

"W-What?!"

"Why so shocked?" America responded, pulling up a nearby chair and plopping down in it, "It's just my hands. It's not like I'm asking you for a hand job or anything."

"YOU PERVERT!" England shouted before crossing his arms and turning away, enraged, "I would never agree to _either_ of those things with you!!"

"Then, I won't use it," America responded, kicking the container away for emphasis.

"You spoiled little brat!"

"Hm…let's see here. An idiot, a stupid git, a moron, a pervert, and a spoiled little brat," he recited, counting each insult on his left hand, "Are there any negative things you _haven't_ called me yet?"

"Plenty!"

With that, a long, awkward silence ensued. Arthur's back was turned to Alfred's, but he could feel the other nation's expectant gaze upon him.

"Alright, fine!" he said at last, using one gloved hand to cover his embarrassed face, "But, only because it's partially my fault!"

"Hooray!"

He turned to see the younger country beaming triumphantly. He had no idea why America was being so childish, but he supposed he would have to give in this time. Motivated by this logic, he walked to Alfred's side, picking up the discarded ointment and taking his burnt hands within his.

_Just imagine that you're doing this for the child Alfred,_ he told himself, _There's_ _nothing weird about an older brother putting ointment on his younger brother's hands._

He examined the burns. They weren't too serious, but Alfred would have a hard time touching anything for the next couple of weeks.

_Alfred…yes, little Alfred, still shorter than me…_

He unscrewed the cap and set it aside before applying a small amount to the burns.

_His hands are so big…I never considered how much bigger than mine they were…_

With an unwelcome blush and unsteady hands, he spread the milky-white cream over his palms.

_…and with no glasses either! Just a fresh, innocent face, yes…_

Ignoring the other nation's childish complaints, he began to lather the solution into the larger pair of hands' rough skin.

_…and they're so warm, too…Idiot! Of course they're warm! He's not a bloody __**vampire**__!! But, they're just so…No! I'm supposed to be thinking of him as a __**child**__! A __**child**__! Would you think such things of a __**child**__?!_

"Hmmmmmm…."

Arthur looked up. His heart leapt when he saw Alfred's blue eyes looking back at him, curiously.

"Why did you come here, England?" he asked, "Surely, not just to bake scones!"

"Oh! That's right!" he exclaimed, discontinuing his task and stumbling backwards. He had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten why he flew all the way to America in the first place. It was to…It was to…

"Um…America…" England said, his face a bright magenta and his hands clasped together tightly.

"The one and only!" America replied cheerfully.

"You see…I came here to…"

_Just tell him._

"The reason I'm here is to…"

_If you don't now, then you never will!_

"Is to…"

"'Is to'?" Alfred echoed, cocking his head to one side like a confused puppy.

England sighed in defeat.

"Is to see if you think my cooking has improved any."

"Ah-ha!" America said, automatically springing into action, "I _knew_ it was just to make scones! I'm so observant!"

Arthur smiled sadly as Alfred made a mad dash towards the burnt, dirty scones like the adorable pig he was.

"Whatever you say…" he muttered.

They ate. America said it was still horrible, and the rain picked up again.

……………………………………………………………………….

XD I'm so sorry, spazzkitty! You're probably going to hate me for the way this chapter ended!


	5. Canada's Storm 2

And we're back for another chapter! \0w0/ I'm so, so, SO sorry I've taken so long!!! [Grovels like the dog I am.]

I've noticed that I'm getting a few readers from Latin American countries like Mexico and Belize. I've heard that many Latin American people are offended by the term "American" referring to people from the US, because it implies that only people from the United States are "American". Forgive me! I've just gotten too used to it to stop! ToT

I've also noticed that a few of my readers are from the UK and a large amount of readers are from Canada, which makes me a happy little fangirl. I have a special feeling towards pairings involving the US, because it's my own country. For a long time, however, I've been curious as to what the people from the other countries involved think. I'm always glad to see Joker fans from the UK. :)

One last thing!! I had another Hetalia dream the other night. In it, I was China (whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat), I was married to Russia, and kid versions of all of the other East Asian countries were our adopted children. (Russia was a scary papa!) I woke up thinking, "OMG…that could totally be made into a fanfiction!" So, if you want me to write a fanfiction like this, please write "SCARY PAPA FTW" in the review box. :D

Enjoy the storm!

……………………………………………………………………………….

Canada sighed. He was sitting on his porch, pensively gazing out at the setting sun as he absent-mindedly stroked Kumajirou's soft, white fur.

"Who are you again?" the bear asked.

"I'm Canada," Mathew replied without particular concern for whether the bear remembered or not. There was far too much on his mind. First and foremost, France was after him. That could be nothing but trouble. Then there was…then there was…

He buried his red face in Kumajirou's fur.

"Canada!"

His heart skipped a beat as he quickly brought his head up to see Alfred, the cause of all of this trouble, walking towards him with one hand up in greeting.

"America!" Matthew replied, not quite sure of what to do. It was rare that America noticed him at all, let alone traveled up to see him.

"Listen…about the other day…" Canada uttered softly.

"**What?!**" was the bombastic reply,"**I can't hear you!!**"

"I said 'about the other day'!!!" he shouted back…well, it was a shout for him. It was just kind of a normal speaking tone for everyone else.

"Hm?" Alfred said, stopping on the porch steps, "What other day?"

"F-four days ago I think it was…" Canada said, fearing his heart was about to be smashed on the ground. _No! It couldn't be!_ He argued to himself, _My heart __**can't**__ be smashed on the ground because that idiot never had it in the first place!__**!**_

"Oh?" America was quiet for a moment before saying, "Ohh! Oh, right!"

Matthew's heart leapt as a playful smile spread over the other country's face.

"So, you heard that confession, huh?"

"Um! Well- I-"

"I suppose you're going to give me another chewing-out now," he said with a sigh as he continued up the porch steps.

"What? No! I would…I would never be that way over _that_," he replied, lowering his eyes to the ground as Kumajirou shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Really?" America said happily, taking a seat beside Canada, "Thanks! I knew you'd understand! It's something that simply **had** to be done!" He beamed.

"O-Oh, r-r-really?"

"Of course!"

"I-If you say so…"

"Why, I bet you would've wanted to do it yourself eventually!"

"…_**what**_?!"

Matthew's face felt like it was on fire.

"Bonjour, Canada! Bonjour, Amérique!"

In just a split second, the fire turned to ice.

"Hey, France!" America called back happily, obviously oblivious to the mortification painted on his northern brother's face.

"Am- America…maybe we should-"

"Comment êtes-vu cette jour?"

"…huh?" Alfred said, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"America…"

"I said 'How are you this day'?"

"America…"

"Awesome!! 'Cept my hands are still burned from yesterday."

"_America…"_

"You burned your hands? How?"

"**Alfred!"**

The use of America's human name obviously caught his attention. He blinked in surprise and turned to look into Canada's pleading eyes.

"Hey…" he said as he slowly looked back at France, finally catching on, "What's going on here? Why is Mattie so scared of you?"

Now, it was Matthew's turn to blink in surprise. _"Mattie"?_

"Oh!" France said, chuckling as if it were such a trivial thing to be bothered about, "All I did was tell him that I would make him fall in love with me."

"……………………………………………………..

……………………………………………

………………………………….

……………_**WHAT??!!**_"

Suddenly, America was on his feet, his face pale and his blue eyes wide and round. He looked back and forth at France and Canada.

"Canada, is this true?" he said.

Canada couldn't find the right words to say. Alfred had previously heard about France's escapades from the older nations, but he never reacted like _this_. He must've been telling the truth before!

Before he knew what his body was doing, Canada was also on his feet with his arms wrapped around America and his face buried in the front of his shirt.

"P-Please…" he said, gazing up into Alfred's bewildered face, "Please…get me away from him…"

After a few moments of the two silently staying in that position, Alfred's confusion melted into a smile.

"Are all of your doors locked?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I said are all of your doors locked?"

"Um…yes?"

"And are all of your lights turned off?"

"Um…I think so."

"You got your bear?"

"Uh…" He bent down and scooped up Kumajirou. "I do now."

"Well, them…" A mischievous smile slowly spread on America's face. It was the smile that he always donned whenever he was about to do something heroic and stupid. Sure enough, he scooped up Canada in much the same way that Canada had scooped up Kumajirou, leaped over the side of the porch, and ran off at full speed, laughing loudly. Matthew could only gape in horror.

_Wh-Where is he planning to take me??? Slow down! Slow down!!_ _**Stupid brother!!!**_


	6. Canada's Storm 3

Next chapter!! (Whoop whoop!)

I'd like to give a shout-out to Sweet Fragrance, who felt is necessary to comment on EVERY FREAKIN' CHAPTER. XD XD My inbox was flooded with review alerts, but they were all so nice that I didn't mind. :)

I'd also like to thank Jay EL 24.8 for wanting to rip every hair out of her head over a yaoi fanfiction. (Wait. Why am I happy about that?)

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As the flight attendant walked by, Canada quickly bent down to hide Kumajirou in the bag that he had bought at the terminal. "Terminal". That phrase always bothered him, even though he had no particular fear of flying.

"**WAIT!!!"** America exclaimed, snapping instantly out of his slumber and grabbing a hold of the young woman's arm.

Canada and the flight attendant both flinched in shock. Alfred continued to stare intensely at her and the only sound to be heard was the whirring of the engine and the rowdy two-year-old in the front of the plane (which kind of killed the mood.)

"Could you bring me some coffee, miss?" America said, dissolving from loud and demanding to sweet and respectful.

"C-c-coffee, sir?"

"Yes, please."

"C-certainly! Right away, sir!"

The flight attendant briskly walked off, clearly shaken by the strange passenger.

"Good grief," Canada said, sighing as he took Kumajirou out of the bag once again, "No wonder you don't make many friends."

"What?" said a crestfallen Alfred, "I was being polite."

"Yes, but you were a tyrant just two seconds _before_," Canada patiently tried to explain, "She probably thinks you're bipolar."

"Like…like the North and South Poles?"

"Wow, Alfred. Just….wow."

A now slightly peeved Kumajirou was put back into his bag as the flight attendant returned with a steaming hot beverage. Sadly, she tripped and it was sent flying onto the carpet of the aisle.

"Oh, so we're doing _**that**_ again, eh?" said the hot beverage.

She then quickly apologized and fretfully left to retrieve another one. America wondered why she hadn't brought it out on a cart like everything else the airline served and turned to Canada with the intention of pointing this out, only to find Canada still faced away from him in a bad mood.

"What?" he said, blinking stupidly, "Why so angry?"

"_**Hawaii?!**_" Matthew whispered fiercely, "Why in the world are you taking me to _**Hawaii**_??"

"Because it's far away from France," America replied cheerfully, apparently not taking Matthew's hushed tone as a hint of discretion and keeping his voice's volume the same.

"So are a lot of places," Matthew countered ill-temperedly, "Why Hawaii?"

"Don't you know?" Alfred said, grinning from ear to ear, "It's my pride and joy!!! A true island paradise! You've never been there before, and I've _really_ wanted you to see it with me!"

A slight blush spread across Canada's face, but was soon blocked from view as a pamphlet was rudely thrown into it.

"W-what's this?" Matthew asked, taking a look at the cover which had a picture of a tropical beach underneath the heading "An Island Paradise."

"A pamphlet about Hawaii," Alfred answered, "Feel free to thumb through it and drink in how awesome I am."

_Seriously,_ Canada thought, _Why am I falling for this guy?_ However, thumb through it he did. It wasn't long before he paused.

"Um…Alfred?" he said without looking up from the page.

"Hm?"

"I don't think we're going to escape from France this way."

"Why's that?"

"You took the wrong pamphlet. We're not going to Hawaii. We're going to a country on the other side of the world."

"Australia?"

"No."

"Greece?"

"No."

"Madagascar?"

"Closer, but no."

"Toronto?"

"That's _**me**_, America."

"Russia?"

"Does Russia look _anything_ like this?!"

"……………………………………………………………………………………………I give up."

Matthew sighed.

"We're going to Seychelles."


	7. England's Storm 3

Hey, look! I didn't die, after all! I have nothing to say to excuse my absence, but….*grovels like the dog I am* Please forgive me! I just didn't have any inspiration!

That being said…

Enjoy the storm!

* * *

"You want me to _what?_" Arthur asked, still in a bit of shock that China had randomly decided to come to his house.

The older nation's eyebrow twitched as he kept his head bowed. He obviously had to gather every ounce of will power in his body and swallow quite a bit of pride to ask such a thing.

"I'm asking you," China repeated, "Will you please keep Russia away from me-aru?"

"W-why?" England asked, setting his tea aside on the table so that it wouldn't be spilt and a joke used much too often wouldn't be repeated yet again, "I thought you and Russia were allies."

"W-well, that is true…" China said, shifting his feet uncomfortably, "Ever since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, our relations have significantly improved. But!" He raised his head to stare pleadingly at Arthur. "But, that doesn't mean I want to sleep with him!!"

With that statement, Yao's hands shot up to cover his mouth, his face as red as his flag.

"A-aru…" He uttered weakly.

Only slightly embarrassed by such a thing, England wondered why China should be so uncomfortable with making that comment. After all, China was one of the oldest countries in the world! Surely sex wasn't such a new thing to him?

"Aiyah~ You don't understand," Yao sighed, sitting beside Arthur, "He comes by my house every day. He either brings sunflowers or is infuriatingly forward! One time, he even kissed me right on the mouth! _As soon as I opened the door!!_ Aiyah…It's even worse when he comes by drunk."

NOW England was truly uncomfortable. Why did he have to hear all of this?

"So, you don't return his feelings," England stated bluntly, wanting very much for this conversation to be over.

"W-w-w-well, I didn't say _that,_ aru…"

Arthur groaned in exasperation and brought his hand to his brow.

"Listen here, China," he said matter-of-factly, "I haven't the time to worry about this, I'm already preoccupied with problems of my own, and I, quite frankly, see no reason to want to help you with your personal life."

"Aiyah! You don't have to be such a jerk about it! I-….Wait a minute!" he paused, looking as if a brilliant idea had occurred to him.

"I've got it!"

"Got what?" England asked, his arms crossed as he glanced at China skeptically.

"I'll help you!"

"Help me with what?"

"With those problems you just mentioned! If you help me, then I'll help you!"

"Um…well…." England uncrossed his arms and looked down at his feet. He could feel his face heating up.

"Aru? What's wrong?"

"My problems…they're too personal. And…I really don't think you could help me at all."

"Aiyah! You think _your_ problems are too personal? Do you have any idea how many times I've had to tell this embarrassing story?! You're the only nation left to ask!"

"Wh- The _**only**_ nation?" England asked in disbelief, raising his head to look at China.

"Well…" China said, rethinking his words, "Japan and France are obviously out of the question, and America seems to have carried that guy that looks like him away on some trip."

Arthur's entire body froze. His heartbeat sped up.

"Canada?"

"That's the one," Yao said, indifferent, "Apparently, France was trying to hit on Canada, so America decided to pick him up and run off to some random place with him. Sounds just like him, doesn't it? Aru? What's wrong now, England?"

"What? O-Oh, nothing…"

_"Some random place with him?"_ England was thinking, _Don't tell me that they…It can't be! Th-they're brothers, aren't they? Well, technically, so are we but…._

Yao searched England's face for a moment.

"I've got it!" he announced happily.

_Oh, hell!_ England thought, _He's figured me out!_

"Your personal problem!! You're in love with Canada, aren't you?"

"………………………………………….._huh_?"

"Of course! Of course!" China said, nodding and smiling at his own cunning, "That would explain your reaction! He's a bit young for you, but I'll help you win him and you'll help me get rid of Russia!"

"No, that's not it," England tried to explain.

"Well, I'm off!" China exclaimed as he headed out of the door, "Just leave everything to me, aru!"

"You don't understand," England said as he tried to catch up with China, "He's not the one that I-!"

But, it was too late. China was already in his car and driving away.

_Oh, bugger,_ England thought as he collapsed in the chair he was previously seated in and picked up his cup of tea, _He moves too bloody fast for a four thousand-year-old man._


End file.
